


Orbital Resonance

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, we're friends. Friends through Jim."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orbital Resonance

Title: Orbital Resonance  
Fandom: Star Trek XI  
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.  
Pairing: Dr. McCoy/Lt. Gaila   
Summary: "Well, we're friends. Friends through Jim."  
Content Advisory: Het, some angst, Jim Kirk discussed.  
_Disclaimer:_ None of these characters or their settings belong to me.

 

"I shouldn't be here," he mutters again, but with his face in her hair. Gaila just strokes McCoy's jaw, his neck, his shoulders, as he sags against her, heavy with worry, trembling with exhaustion. Technically, he should be in his quarters, but no one thinks he'll stay there while Jim Kirk's on life support in Sickbay. The only reason he's with Gaila is because she and Nyota and Christine combined their strength to propel him to the Sickbay doors, and while Christine went back on shift and Nyota settled in the chair beside the Captain's biobed, Gaila folded her arms firmly around McCoy's and tugged him down the corridor.

"Lieutenant Gaila, I really..." She shushes him, rubbing the nape of his neck, sliding her fingers up into his hair. She could listen to him talk all night with his voice this deep and rough, thickened deliciously by his accent, but while she'd be listening he'd talk himself into returning to Sickbay, into monopolizing the watch beside Jim's bed as the whole ship waits. "I appreciate what you're tryin' to do, but--"

"Doctor Leonard," Gaila says carefully -- his title and his personal name rather than the special nickname only Jim uses, respectful but a little informal, implying they're off-duty. He sags a little further, and she sets her heel to keep from skidding under his weight and winds an arm around his shoulder, spreading her hand out on his back. "Please, stay with me tonight. It was..." She lets her voice crack with exaggerated fear; it was terrible to see Jim hurt trying and failing to rescue Simnaz, terrible to see him smile bravely while covered in blood, but Gaila survived the Battle of Vulcan drifting alone in agonized darkness, she could bear these memories by herself if she had to.

She doesn't have to, and she lures McCoy into letting her help by giving him the sense of helping. Sighing surrender, he presses one hand to the small of her back, sucking in a pained rush of breath. "Okay, but just a while." He smells good, warm and clean and Human male, but Christine whispered to Gaila an hour ago that she'd overheard him in the medbay shower, cursing brokenly, hushed and harsh. "Just till you get to sleep, I should get back."

Gaila doesn't reply that she slept while she waited for Jim's surgery to be finished, doesn't remind McCoy that two doctors and three nurses agreed he needs some rest; at the Academy she watched him argue with Jim, making note of the sarcasm and bluster he shields himself with against frontal assaults. Instead she nods against his chest, gently leading him across her room, and when they reach her bed she settles him onto it before she dares let go.

McCoy kicks off his boots and slumps prone atop her sheets, staring at her ceiling with bloodshot eyes. Gaila pulls off her outer uniform dress and draws her arms into the underdress, unhooking her bra with feigned unconcern. She pretends she doesn't notice the way his eyes flicker in her direction, or the guilty wince that shuts them. She just pulls her bra through her sleeve and rolls over to tuck herself beside McCoy's broad frame, ordering the lights to twenty-five percent. It would be a little too much to lay her arm across his chest quite yet, but she snuggles her head under his chin and feels him sigh, feels him fight relaxation with every tense muscle, feels him lose to it and listens to his breathing even out.

At length he murmurs, "He's gonna be okay, you know. Jim. He's too stubborn not to be." Gaila nods, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder. She really does believe McCoy, and there isn't any point to thinking otherwise. Even if he doesn't really believe it himself.

"He is so stubborn," she agrees, settling the back of her hand against McCoy's ribs. A few more breaths, and he folds his fingers around hers. He's still not asleep, she can feel him slumping and tensing cyclically as he fights it, so she adds, "Jim told me he's never going to die."

McCoy snorts softly. "And why's that, did he say?"

"Because he has you, he said. If he ever died you'd bring him back just to kill him for making you worry." She starts to giggle -- it had been very funny, especially with Jim's eye-rolling telling -- but stifles herself when McCoy stiffens beside her.

He doesn't let go of her hand, though, so she just breathes, cautious and steady, as he slumps again, as he turns his face away from her and whispers into the air, "Yeah, well, he'd better remember it."

McCoy is at least as stubborn as Jim, which is part of what makes them such fun to watch together, even if it makes them both difficult to handle. Time for stronger measures; Gaila pushes up on her elbow and kisses McCoy on his cheek, well away from his mouth.

He doesn't tense, at least. His fingers squeeze around her hand before he lets go, and he says precisely, each word distinct, "Miss Gaila, why did you bring me here?"

Gaila smiles before she can help it, because this is how McCoy addressed her when she and Jim were more formally involved, even during several variants on threesomes. Then she puts the smile away for later. "Because you need some rest."

He breathes out on a growl, some frustration, some interest. "Woman," he says, trying for sternly clipped though he's too tired to avoid a drawl, "If it weren't for those pheromones of yours--"

She blocks that line of argument with, "I'm taking my suppressors." He peers at her then, eyes dark in the low light, one thick eyebrow raised, and he looks so much like and so completely unlike Nyota's Spock that Gaila can't help giggling, especially when his other eyebrow goes up. She shakes her head under that skeptical look and adds, "Really and truly."

"Scout's honor?" He takes her wrist in a firm grip, tipping towards her but shifting away.

"Whatever scouts have to do with honor, yes." McCoy scrutinizes her for another moment, and Gaila tilts her head up and meets his eyes. Then his hold on her wrist flickers softer-harder-softer, and his hand flattens on her back, pushing her up for a kiss.

He sighs as their lips meet, lets go of her wrist to clench his fist in her hair as he parts her lips with his, as he licks his way into her mouth and plunges in, suddenly demanding and rough. A good rough, and she doesn't moan yet, but she does whimper, her fingers on his jaw.

McCoy pulls back with a last light closed-mouthed kiss to her lips, and turns his head to kiss her wrist too, his eyes still shut. "All I wanted," he mutters, stroking the back of her neck and the small of her back, "was a stiff drink and Jim looking up at me with that ridiculous grin of his."

Gaila could just sigh, because he _is_ solid, and warm, and stubborn. Instead she offers, "I could get you a drink?"

His brows ease apart as he opens his eyes, his smile so little and sweet she wants to moan or weep. "You taste better," he tells her, and she pulls him back down to her.

This isn't a night for taking their time. They kiss fiercely until Gaila can feel her lips swelling taut, until she's writhing and moaning against McCoy, and when he thumbs her nipple through her dress she gasps sharply. He strokes her sides through the dress, his hands big and sure and welcome, and she slings her leg up over his hip, wriggling closer.

Then her knee hits his communicator, and they both freeze. McCoy pulls away, his mouth red and puffy and frowning, and Gaila can _see_ him remembering too much as the lines furrow across his forehead. "_By the balls of impotent shit-treaders_," she mutters in Orion Prime, and plucks the thing from his pocket.

McCoy's eyebrows pull together in the expression Jim calls 'storm clouds brewing!', down to the exclamation mark of a wrinkle between his eyes. Gaila's faster, though, and she lifts the communicator so he can see what she's doing as she cranks its chime to maximum volume, then rolls over to set it on the shelf by her bed. "You can still reach it," she says, letting her voice go throaty.

He melts against her back as heavily as when she led him here, and his fingers shake as they skim her thigh. "Gaila," he murmurs, hot over her ear, hard and hot against her ass, but when he repeats her name he's forcibly calmer. He must still be thinking.

Keeping her back to him, Gaila pulls her dress up and tosses it off the side of the bed, wiggles back against him as she shimmies out of her panties. McCoy's mutter is low and breathless, something she doesn't quite catch but it sounds delightfully profane, and his hand presses her hip, just this side of clutching the curve. "Come on, Leonard," she says as she shrugs her hair back and smiles over her shoulder, "I'm waiting."

Past her hair she can just see his cheek draw up, as his fingers skim the curve of her waist and trace over her ribs. "Mustn't keep a lady waiting." His hands leave her as he yanks at his clothes, muttering "goddamn" a couple of times; she starts to turn over but he nudges a kiss against her shoulder as if to say 'stay where you are', so she does. He kisses her neck again as she feels the flurry of him kicking off his trousers, sliding his lips up behind her ear as he nudges her, his hand warm on her collarbones, trailing down to her breast.

Gaila breathes a pleased noise, sets her hand against the wall above her head, and waits as McCoy pushes into her, trembling and slow. She keeps from clenching her fist, from scraping her nails on the wall, as he sighs and moves carefully, holding her at breast and waist with gentle hands. He feels wonderful, thick and hard inside her, and impatience pounds in her heartbeat until-- there, far enough, and she pushes to meet him in one convulsive slam, biting her lip on a cry. She whimpers loudly as she hilts him inside herself, but not too loudly to hear his satisfyingly surprised groan. "Fuck me," she orders, pleased to hear her voice snap with command. "Come on, fuck me."

"Yes, _ma'am_," he answers, voice a little dazed, one hand cupping her breast and the other arm a hard bar across her waist, and on the next thrust she thunks her head back into his shoulder as she cries out. He gasps like he might have thought he'd hurt her, so she hooks her foot behind his knee and bucks into him, and that does it; he fucks her as hard as she wants, as hard as she can tell he needs, both hands cradling her breasts now, fingers flexing just this side of squeezing. He pants into her hair, half-voiced moans as if he's on the edge of words, and she whimpers in reply, hitching her hips to adjust the angle by arcseconds until _just like that_, she thinks or maybe shouts as he moves in her just perfectly and she squeezes around him and comes in pulses of glorious heat.

"Holy fucking God help me," he mutters into her hair, and she remembers Jim laughing at a remark like that and laughs too, more than half an ecstatic sob. McCoy shudders and pushes one hand up her throat, two fingers into her mouth, and she tightens her lips around them and sucks, licking them like they're tentacle-tips or cocks, as his other hand clamps on her hip, as his shirts crumple against her back. "C'mon, darlin', one more time." He pulls his fingers from her mouth and she moans, but then he lays those wet fingertips on her swollen clit, stroking it just hard enough, and she dimly hears herself scream as she bucks into the touch and comes again, rolling her head on the firm pillow of his shoulder.

McCoy's fingers tighten further on her hip, compressing flesh and bracing against bone as he drives into her even harder, groaning, "Yeah, yeah, please," and shaking through her with his own orgasm. Gaila drops her arms, going limp as she gasps, and after a few moments McCoy's arms fall just as limp and heavy around her. He murmurs something into the crown of her head that sounds perhaps like a plan for cleaning up, but three breaths later she hears a soft snore, vibrating over her scalp, and drowsily smiles.

-*+*-*+*-

McCoy's communicator beeps loudly, he jerks head to toe, and Gaila wakes with him, keeping herself still as she collects her mind and glances at her chrono. 0402. McCoy lunges over her to grab his communicator, and she feels bare hair-dusted skin brush her shoulder, bare calves behind her feet; he must have stripped sometime while she was asleep, and she thinks a smile because, after all, he didn't leave.

He does peel away from her, leaving her chilled, as he stands and strides to the door. "McCoy here." his voice is gruff and low, hushed. Gaila tips onto her back and looks at his, the long muscular lines of him and the curve of his ass, and doesn't particularly eavesdrop. Even so, it's impossible to miss his pleased "Good, good, I'll be right--" and his squawked, "What do you mean, _bar_ the--?" Then he stills, his broad shoulders hunching slightly, and turns to peer at Gaila, who smiles and gives him a little wave. "I _see_," he drawls at length. "McCoy out." Gaila brought him here to relax him, not to wind him up, but he does look good with that tasty little wrinkle between his eyes as he stalks back to her bed. She pulls up the blanket and offers the edge to him, and he grabs it and tugs it over his waist as he sits. "Why did Chapel just tell me to tell you hi?"

Gaila shrugs, and doesn't have to fake a yawn. "Did you say hi to her for me? How is Jim?"

McCoy tries to stare her down, but she holds his gaze, her chin up, and he only resists for a moment before he growls, "Women conspiring against me, it's a damn mutiny." She smiles, and his face lightens despite the stubble shadowing his cheeks, almost into an answering smile. "He's better, M'Benga was able to take him off the ventilator. That doctor _also_ authorized the nursing staff to bar the door if I show in my own damn Medbay before 0600, or so Chapel reports."

Gaila grins, and stretches, and watches McCoy's eyes flick across her body and drag back up to her face. "Then you have almost two more hours to sleep, unless you'd rather eat."

"No, not hungry." McCoy's mouth tilts up on one side. "And you're as bad as Jim, you know that?"

"Thank you, I should hope so." Gaila widens her smile to dazzling and reaches for his hand.

McCoy shakes his head as he folds his hand into hers, and looks down as he squeezes it gently, then looks up at her with such dark eyes. "You're something, Miss Gaila, you really are."

His wonderfully unnecessary gratitude warms her like sunlight. "Well, we're friends. Friends through Jim." She tugs, and he lies down with her again. "Aren't you glad we met in his orbit?"

When McCoy stares she realized she used an Orion idiom; then he laughs, tugging her close so she can feel it rumbling in his chest. "Don't you dare tell him we're his moons, his ego's swollen enough already."

He breathes in slowly, wrapping his arms around her, tension ebbing from all his muscles as he sighs. As she says, "I'll let you tell him," he kisses her forehead, and she feels him smile.


End file.
